


Yes, Boss

by seiyuna



Series: Of suits and skirts [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Boss Kink, Boss/Employee Relationship, Crossdressing Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Roleplay, Suit Kink, Tie Kink, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiyuna/pseuds/seiyuna
Summary: Kurapika surprises Kuroro at work.Companion piece toSwipe Right. Can be read standalone.





	Yes, Boss

 

There’s someone in his office.

When his calendar is free of any scheduled meetings, there isn’t any reason Kuroro should expect someone. He slides the door open, finding that the chair in front of his desk is already occupied, and nearly swallows his tongue at the sight of his guest.

“Kurapika—?”

“Yes,” Kurapika answers, a small smile framing his face. He rises from the chair, the click of his heels resounding through the room as he approaches. He offers his hand to greet Kuroro properly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Kuroro receives the handshake, taken aback. He looks much like the Kurapika he knows, but does not at the same time. When blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, light glints off the exposed crimson earring on his left ear. A pink jacket hangs off his frame and a paired skirt stretches across the curve of his hips—an ensemble that reminds him too much of what a secretary would wear. That isn’t the worst of it, because when Kuroro wills himself not to look at his legs, he can’t help but do so anyway.

Kurapika clears his throat, bringing his attention back to where it belongs. “Moving forward, I’ll be assuming the responsibilities of your former secretary. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Kuroro decides to say. His voice comes out rougher than he would like because _fuck_ , Kurapika is stunning. “I didn’t expect you here so soon.”

“Please forgive me.” Kurapika gives a small bow, blond hair falling across his face with the gesture. “I was just too eager to meet you.”

“It’s fine.” He reaches out to brush Kurapika’s hair away, tucking his bangs behind his ear and getting a proper look at his face. There's a slow flutter of lashes as Kurapika looks up at him curiously, and the lipstick painted on his lips makes him want to lean in and kiss him right there and then. “Did you get yourself made up for me? Was this out of eagerness too?”

A light blush sweeps across Kurapika’s cheeks. “Whatever you’d like to believe.”

“I’m not sure if this is part of the job description,” Kuroro says with a soft laugh. “But I like it very much. Come here for a moment.”

While Kuroro takes a seat, Kurapika leans against the edge of the desk and crosses his legs. His skirt rides up ever so slightly when he does. It’s very well-fitted for his figure.

“Are you going to sit there and stare all day?”

“Not if I want to get anything done,” Kuroro says with a smile. He need not hesitate now, when Kurapika is waiting for his next move. His hand slips to Kurapika’s thigh, running his fingers over the opaque fabric of his tights, evoking a shiver from Kurapika. “You have such pretty legs.”

“So I’ve been told.” Kurapika places his hand over Kuroro’s own, slowly sliding his touch upward to the hem of the skirt, and stops. It’s a gesture of surrender and command, all at once. There’s a teasing look in his eyes and then—he’s moving to straddle Kuroro, knees on both sides of his hips.

Kurapika makes himself comfortable on his lap, and the friction is too much to bear. His hands come to play with Kuroro's belt, pulling at his belt loops until their bodies are flush together. There’s no protest as Kuroro’s hand ventures beneath the skirt, sliding over the curve of his backside and pressing him down at the same time. A shaky breath escapes Kurapika’s lips, and Kuroro wants nothing more than to push him down on the desk.

“You are so difficult to resist.” Kuroro presses his lips against Kurapika’s jawline, leaving soft kisses in his wake. He doesn’t want to leave marks, not yet. It’s decadent, how he takes his time to revere Kurapika’s skin, tasting him like he’s something expensive, something to be savored.

“I know.” Kurapika leans into his touch. There’s an edge to his words, but his expression seem to say something different, when there’s a heat in his cheeks, a want in his eyes. “Are you going to have me here? In your office?”

Kuroro moves away now, denying him of any further contact. “Is that what you want, Kurapika?”

Kurapika looks at him, focused with an intensity that steals the words from his lips.

“Yes, Boss.”

 _Fuck_.

Kuroro can’t deny how much he likes the sound of that. “Tell me, what you want me to do to you.”

“I want to feel you inside me,” Kurapika murmurs, pressing a hand against the fabric of his pants without hesitation, pooling heat in his lower abdomen. It’s nothing short of distracting as Kurapika pulls the clasp of his pants undone, slowly dragging down the zipper. “I want you to have me as much as you clearly want to.”

Kuroro laughs. “You can read me so well.”

Sliding his hands under Kurapika’s thighs, he easily lifts him up and lowers him on the desk. This can’t possibly be comfortable, but Kurapika settles back without complaint, his blond hair fanning across the desk like a halo. It’s a pretty sight, seeing Kurapika lying beneath him.

Kuroro reaches over to undo some of the buttons on Kurapika’s blouse, but a hand stops him.

“Don’t,” Kurapika says suddenly, his hand grasping onto Kuroro's wrist. “Keep your clothes on too.”

Kuroro’s eyebrows lift in question. “Do you like this suit that much?”

“Maybe. If you’re going to make a mess out of me, I’d like to do the same to you.” Kurapika turns his head away, not meeting his gaze. “You don’t have to be so slow and gentle either.”

“You have some interesting requests.” Kuroro steps closer, settling in between Kurapika’s legs. He loosens his tie with practiced motions, but doesn’t entirely remove it. Even if it’s too warm in the room, with Kurapika asking him for something like that, the last thing he wants to do is take off his clothes. “Alright then.”

He spreads Kurapika’s legs apart and lifts the skirt up higher, deciding how he should remove the tights. He tears an opening instead.

A sharp gasp, and Kurapika casts him a pointed look. “You—”

“This is rather exciting, don’t you think?” Kuroro can’t stop the grin from pulling at his lips. The material of his undergarments is soft to the touch, and he pushes it aside, exposing his entrance. “You really went all out with this. I wasn’t expecting the lingerie.”

“As long as you like it,” Kurapika murmurs, a blush deepening on his cheeks.

“I like it very much,” Kuroro affirms again. Without lubricant on him, he decides to wet a finger, pressing it against Kurapika’s entrance. He’s rewarded with a soft gasp when the first finger eases inside easily, and there’s a sound hitched in his own throat. “Did you already—?”

“Like I said,” Kurapika says, looking at him through lowered lashes, “you don’t have to be gentle. I prepared beforehand.”

Kuroro’s throat feels dry. “Were you touching yourself? Thinking of me?”

“Yes,”Kurapika inhales sharply, “ _oh_.”

Kuroro pulls his finger out to push in with two more, stretching him open despite repeated protests that it isn’t necessary. It’s more about teasing Kurapika than stretching him, brushing his fingers close to where Kurapika wants them but not quite. The moan he receives when his fingers curl inside Kurapika is wonderful, and he wants to hear more.

He leans forward, mouth back on Kurapika’s skin, sucking marks on his neck while thrusting three fingers deep inside him. There will certainly be bruises there tomorrow—ones that no one will see beneath a conservative, collared button-up. Ones that no one will suspect that Kurapika received after sleeping with his boss.

“If you keep on doing that,” Kurapika says, biting his lip to keep in a moan, “I’m going to come.”

“What should I do then?” Kuroro asks softly, mouth moving against his skin with the words. The series of marks along Kurapika’s neck incites him to leave more, but he lets his teeth graze Kurapika’s skin, and then moves away.

The view before him is the epitome of temptation. Kurapika’s hair is coming loose from the ponytail across the desk, something erotic all on its own, and his lips are reddened from biting down. There’s also something different about the color of his eyes, how taupe looks like it’s bled into scarlet. As he gazes at the mess he’s making, even when they’ve only gotten started, Kuroro thinks that there isn’t anyone he wants more than Kurapika.

Kurapika shivers when his fingers are pulled out, legs trembling around Kuroro’s hips. There’s something unmistakably hard straining against Kurapika’s skirt, and Kuroro reaches underneath to tear a larger opening in his tights. Kurapika looks like he hates him a little for that, but what he says next is entirely different.

“I want you to fuck me already.” Kurapika brings his arms around Kuroro’s shoulders, fingers carding through the hair at the base of his neck, and presses a kiss to the edge of his lips. Lipstick catches on his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. It just takes him by surprise that he’s been kissed first. “Please, Boss.”

“Alright,” Kuroro says slowly, leaning in to seek another kiss. Kurapika is more than willing to oblige, his legs wrapping around his waist a little tighter. “I won’t keep you waiting anymore, Kurapika.”

Kuroro draws out his length from underneath his boxers, stroking himself with a teasing look, and a whine escapes Kurapika’s lips. With his other hand, he spreads Kurapika’s legs wider. Anticipation makes itself known in the quiver of Kurapika’s thighs, and Kuroro lines himself up against his entrance and pushes in slowly.

Kurapika grasps at the edge of the desk as Kuroro fills him up, sinking deep into him, inch by inch. The slick heat nearly makes him lose it, but he moves slowly, gripping Kurapika’s hips with both of his hands to hold him still, letting him adjust to the stretch. It’s when he bottoms out that Kurapika rolls his hips, encouraging him to move.

And Kuroro does, pulling out, slow and steady, before pushing back in, giving Kurapika exactly what he wants. Kurapika’s gasp is swallowed by Kuroro’s mouth, hot and demanding as he slips his tongue past his lips, kissing him deeper. When his next thrust is sharper than the last, Kurapika breaks the kiss with a low moan, arching his back off the desk.

“Do you like it?”

Kuroro moves his hips to find an increasingly new depth inside Kurapika, watching how each movement makes his body quiver, makes him lose himself a little more.

“I love it,” Kurapika moans, looking up at him with the overwhelming sensation of being fucked against the desk, being filled up, “I love how you feel inside me.”

Kuroro smiles. “Good.”

His grip is tight on Kurapika’s hips, and he’s certain that he will leave bruises there as well, and his body feels hotter at the thought of marking him like this. No one will be able to see these either, but Kurapika will be able to feel them, will think of Kuroro when he returns home and sees them in his reflection.

It doesn’t take long for Kurapika to accustom himself to Kuroro’s fast pace, because he rocks back to meet each of Kuroro’s hard, deliberate thrusts, until he pulls a low groan from Kuroro’s throat. Kurapika’s hands grasping at his shoulders again, fingernails digging into his back, as if he’s trying to do everything to pull him closer.

Just as Kuroro slides a hand beneath Kurapika’s thigh and pulls him higher, he thrusts in, deeper this time, and it’s enough to hit the spot that makes Kurapika tense up, makes him tighten around him. He pulls back and pushes in again, harder now, and it tears a cry from Kurapika.

“God, _Kuroro_ ,” Kurapika breathes, without thinking.

All at once, everything stops.

He’s buried deep inside Kurapika, and he stills. Kurapika’s eyes widen when he’s suddenly being denied of further pleasure.

“I’m sorry, Boss,” Kurapika murmurs, shuddering when the head of Kuroro’s cock presses against the most sensitive part of him, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Give me your hands,” Kuroro says, and softens his gaze when his voice comes out colder than expected, “please.”

Kurapika holds out his hands without protest. Loosening his tie in its entirety, he binds Kurapika’s wrists in the silken loop of the fabric. A small sound catches in Kurapika’s throat when Kuroro pulls the knot tight and lays his hands above his head.

It’s such a heady feeling to have Kurapika at his mercy, and he contemplates what he should do next. “Is it fine?”

Kurapika nods fervently. “It won’t happen again. Please touch me, Boss.”

Kuroro starts moving again without delay, increasing the force of his thrusts, reducing Kurapika to a mess of pleading moans and exhales with every brush against that one spot. Kurapika doesn’t make any effort to stifle the sounds that part from his lips, and it only serves to heighten the feeling of being inside him.

Leaning down, Kuroro finds the exposed curve of Kurapika’s throat, tracing the marks he’s made with his teeth, and gives a particularly harsh thrust.

“Like that,” Kurapika gasps out. “God, you’re so _big_.”

Kuroro feels his cock twitch inside. “Everyone’s going to hear you.”

But that doesn’t worry Kurapika, seems to make him even more excited despite the becoming flush on his face. He’s getting more desperate for Kuroro’s touch at the idea of getting caught by his colleagues.

“Don’t care,” Kurapika answers easily, and there’s a catch of need in his tone. “Please, I can’t take this anymore. I’m so close—”

Kuroro almost wants to hear him beg more, because he likes pushing his limits, but he’s chasing after release too. He straightens his posture and rests his hands against Kurapika’s hips, giving Kurapika all of his heat and strength with each thrust. He’s pounding into him relentlessly, making Kurapika’s body shake with the force, and there’s only one last whimper before Kurapika’s coming all over his skirt, tightening around him and arching his back off the desk.

“Yes,” Kurapika sobs, “Boss.”

“Fuck,” Kuroro groans. Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he keeps on fucking Kurapika through the tight heat, trying to prolong the feeling as long as he possibly can. He maintains his grip on Kurapika’s thighs, holding them steady as his own hips stutter, losing their rhythm.

His orgasm draws closer and closer, until he loses it, spilling deep within Kurapika, marking him inside as well, and Kurapika trembles with him, moaning softly, as though he’s just come again too. He holds Kurapika still as he thrusts into him, one last time.

Kuroro rests his hands against the desk as he catches his breath. Kurapika’s still shaking beneath him, tight around him, and the image is too much to bear. His blond hair is disheveled, strands falling over his flushed cheeks. His lashes are lowered over bright eyes, flecked with a scarlet hue. His clothes are stained and rumpled, and Kuroro almost feels bad for making such a mess. He waits until Kurapika’s breathing has settled before pulling out, and there’s a soft whimper as he does.

“I’d want to fuck you again,” Kuroro says, gaze darkening at the sight of his release spilling out of Kurapika, “if I wasn’t so spent.”

“I could say the same to you,” Kurapika answers, breathless. He easily pulls the tie undone out of his volition and rubs at his wrist. “Did you have fun?”

“I think I fell in love with you all over again." A smile tugs at Kuroro's lips. “I can’t believe you let me get away with everything.”

Kurapika blushes. “I almost punched you when you ripped my tights. You don’t know how many pairs I needed to replace from accidentally tearing them.”

“I’m sorry. You were so beautiful,” Kuroro says reverently, stroking his thumb against Kurapika’s lip, messing with the lipstick smeared across his face, “and so in character.”

“It was a little awkward,” Kurapika mumbles, “but also exciting. I don’t know if I would do this again, but I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself.”

When he leans down to give a kiss of appreciation, Kurapika meets his lips with a content sigh. “Thank you, Kurapika.”

“Anyway, I hope there won’t be a scandal tomorrow about you sleeping with your employees.”

Kuroro laughs, and kisses him again.

 

 

 

When his calendar marks February 14th, Kuroro thinks of how he can reciprocate, how he can possibly spoil someone so perfect. Gifting Kurapika chocolates and flowers would be too banal, although he's certain that Kurapika would appreciate the gesture nonetheless. As he passes by various shop windows in the heart of the city, he gets ideas.

He slows his steps in front of a window display of a luxury menswear boutique. The clean tailoring would accentuate Kurapika's figure well, and he would not only be able to own an impeccable suit for work purposes, but also for more formal occasions. But adjacent to the boutique is a lingerie department store. The elaborate collection of lace and silk makes his heart beat a little faster, and Kurapika would undoubtedly look excellent in that too.

Sometimes, it makes Kurapika uncomfortable when he flaunts his wealth too much. If he were here, he would pull Kuroro away from considering some of the most expensive designer brands in the world, make him forget that he ever saw anything, and he almost does. But he thinks that he can almost see Kurapika wearing these clothes, and the anticipation that comes with that is enough for him to caress the wallet in his coat.

Kuroro smiles to himself and enters the first boutique.

An hour later, he leaves with shopping bags from both.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Usually my author's notes section is a few paragraphs long, but this time, I don't have any excuses. I've reached the point where I write fanfics of my own fanfics. You can decide if you want this to belong in the same universe as Swipe Right. +:)
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment. You can also reach out to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/seiyunablog) or [Tumblr](http://seiyuna.tumblr.com/).


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